Chapter 8: Evan
EVAN
Cooper and Mac are already sitting down in the kitchen with Uncle Levi when I walk through the door on Sunday night. The plans for Mac’s hotel are spread out on the table. She has her laptop open, hunched over the keyboard while gnawing on a pen. Daisy is the only one to acknowledge me, running up to climb my leg as I kick off my shoes.
“Hey, pretty girl,” I coo at the excited puppy.
“You’re late,” Cooper informs me.
“I stopped to pick up dinner.” I drop the bags of Chinese takeout on the counter. My brother doesn’t even turn his head from the blueprints. “No, don’t sweat it. My pleasure.”
“Thank you,” Mac says over her shoulder. “No egg in the fried rice, right?”
“Yes, I remembered.” For fuck’s sake, it’s like I’m the damn help around here.
“Leave that,” Levi says. “Come here. We need to talk about next week.”
Levi is our dad’s brother. He took us in after Dad died in a drunk driving accident when we were little and raised us when our mom couldn’t be bothered to care. Our uncle’s the only real family Cooper and I have left, and although it was
difficult to bond with him growing up—he’s the gruff, quiet type whose idea of spending quality time together is sitting silently in the same room—the three of us have gotten closer lately.
He’s been running his own construction business for years. And after the recent hurricanes that ravaged Avalon Bay, he’s been flush with more renovation and demolition work than he can handle. Since Levi made Cooper and I partners in the business not too long ago, we’ve got a hell of a lot more on our plates too.
Our biggest and most pressing gig is The Beacon, the old landmark hotel on the boardwalk that Mac bought several months ago. The hotel had been gutted from the storm and sat abandoned for a couple years until Mac impulsively decided to fix it up. Her family is disgustingly wealthy, but she’d purchased The Beacon with her own money—I only recently found out that she’d made millions running her own websites that post cheesy relationship stuff.
“Got a call from Ronan West,” Levi is saying. “He needs some renovations on his house before he puts it up for sale. So that means we need to split one of you to run a crew out there.”
“Let one of the guys do it,” Cooper says, copping an attitude at the mention of Gen’s dad. Because Coop’s a damn child. “I don’t want things slipping at the hotel because we leave someone else in charge over there.”
We’re in the final stages of the renovation at Mac’s hotel, which is supposed to have a soft opening a few months from now in September. The idea being: She’ll bring in a select guest list to feel the place out and build up a reputation for the spa through the winter season, then hold the grand opening in the spring.
“Ronan’s a friend,” Levi counters. “I can’t send some knucklehead to him. I want to know he’s taken care of right.”
“I’ll do it,” I offer.
“Of course.” Cooper says with an exasperated sigh. “I don’t
think that’s a good idea.”
“No one asked you.” Starved, I edge away from the table to grab one of the boxes of lo mein and dig in.
“We’ve got a good handle on the hotel.” Mac eyes my lo mein, then gets her box of fried rice and hops up on the counter to eat. “Shouldn’t be a problem.”
Cooper shoots her a look for contradicting him, but she just shrugs. Maybe the best part of having Mac around is that she loves to wind my brother up. Which usually means taking my side in an argument.
“You’re a glutton for punishment.” Cooper shakes his head at me.
Maybe I am, but he doesn’t understand Gen like I do. Sure, we’ve had our toxic moments, the fights, the reckless nights. But there were great times as well. Together, we’re fusion. Perfect energy. Right now she thinks there’s some righteous atonement in keeping our distance, but that’s only because she’s let herself forget what it’s like when we’re at our best.
I simply have to remind her. But to do that, I need to get close to her.
“Hey.” Levi demands my attention. “You sure you can keep it professional? I don’t want you acting like a fool over there while you’re on the job. We might be Hartley and Sons now, but that’s still my name on the business card.”
“Don’t worry,” I promise through a mouthful of noodles. “I got this.”
Cooper sighs.
On Monday afternoon, Levi and I pull up to the West house. Ronan had dropped off a key at Levi’s this morning so we could let ourselves in to have a look around. The purpose of today’s visit is to walk the property and come up with a task list
of anything that needs replacing, fixing, painting. Ronan’s left it up to Levi to give him his opinion and a price quote for what he thinks it will take to get the best offer when it goes on the market. After twenty-some years and six kids, the rambling two-story house has definitely seen better days.
It is a little odd being back here under the circumstances. Even weirder to be walking through the front door after all those times Gen and I got caught sneaking in or out through her window. And don’t get me started on all the pool parties we threw when Gen’s parents were away.
My uncle and I conduct a sweep of the interior first, scribbling on our clipboards as we point out various issues that jump out at us. We scope out the exterior next, looking at the siding that needs replacing and deciding the wobbly wooden fence around the backyard probably warrants a PVC upgrade. Looks better and is easier to maintain. After some more clipboard notes, we let ourselves through the gate to check out the pool and—holy sweet Jesus.
I come up short at the sight of Gen tanning on one of the lounge chairs.
Topless.
Kill me.
“I thought they stopped making pornos like this in the nineties,” I drawl, getting an irritated grumble in response from Levi.
Totally unbothered, Gen rolls onto her side, looking like a swimsuit model with her long legs and oiled skin glowing under the sun. Those astounding, perky breasts are pointing right at me. Not as though I’d forgotten what they look like, but the sight of her in just tiny bikini bottoms and sunglasses gets me reminiscing about old times.
“You don’t knock anymore?” Gen says, then reaches for a glass of water.
“Did I ever?” My gaze keeps flitting back
to her perfect rack. It’s taking all my wits to remember my uncle is standing next to me.
“Your, uh, dad asked us over to give him a quote for the renovation,” Levi answers, staring uncomfortably at the ground. “He didn’t say anyone would be here.”
I stifle a laugh. “Come on, Gen, put those things away. You’re gonna give the poor man a stroke.”
“Aw, Levi’s not interested in anything I’ve got, anyway.” She sits up, reaching for her bikini top. “How’s Tim doing?” she asks Levi.
He grunts out a, “Yeah, good,” while still diligently averting his eyes. My uncle doesn’t talk much about his long-time partner, who works from home as an editor for academic journals. Levi prefers to keep their personal life private. It wasn’t always easy for him being a gay man in this town, and I think he finds it simpler to let most people believe what they want. Even among his friends that know, they don’t ask about it. As a couple, he and Tim don’t tend to go out much on account of the latter being sort of a recluse. They like things quiet, those two. It suits them, I suppose.
“What are you doing home?” I ask Gen. I heard her dad had her working at the stone yard.
“We’re open on Sundays,” she says, covering her chest with her forearm as she untangles the strings of her top. “So we get Mondays off. You guys need anything from me?”
Levi finds his voice while dutifully looking at his clipboard. “Is Ronan going to want any landscaping back here?”
Gen shrugs. “No idea.”
Relieved, he takes the excuse to go inside and call Ronan, leaving me alone with Gen.
After a moment of noticeable reluctance, she shifts in her chair. “Tie me up?” Holding her top to her chest, she turns
her back to me.
“Or … we could leave it off.”
“Evan.”
“You’re no fun.” I sit at the edge of her lounger and reach for her bikini strings. I’ve had worse jobs.
“Does this happen to you a lot? Catching cougars and rich college girls in various states of undress?” Her tone is dry.
“This is exactly how every one of these projects start,” I say solemnly, tying the thin strings of her bikini. “First time I’ve had a hard-on in front of my uncle, though, so that’s a whole new level of family trauma.”
“You could have warned me,” she accuses, turning to face me once she’s adjusted herself. “Dropping in without notice was sneaky on your part.”
“I didn’t know you’d be here,” I remind her. “I was planning to help myself to some underwear and be on my way.”
Gen just sighs.
“You know, this whole topless scheme of yours—”
“Scheme? I didn’t know you were coming,” she protests.
I ignore that. “Reminds me of that field trip senior year,” I finish, not even pretending I’m not watching the little beads of condensation that fall off her water glass and travel down her chest as she takes a sip.
“What field trip?”
“Don’t play dumb. You know exactly what I’m talking about.” That trip was pretty damn unforgettable.
Her lips curve slightly before flattening in a tight line. “How about we don’t go there?” she says with another sigh.
“Go where?” I blink innocently. “The aquarium?”
“Evan.”
“It was raining that day. You were mad at me because you said I was flirting with Jessica in math class,
so you showed up the next day for the field trip in a white tank top with no bra to throw yourself at Andy What’s-his-face. So we get off the bus in the rain, and then everyone’s catching an eyeful of your twins.”
There’s a long beat, during which I can see her resolve crumbling.
“You stole me a T-shirt from the gift shop,” she says grudgingly.
I hide a smile of satisfaction. So easy to get her to join me on this trip down memory lane. “Because I would have had to break Andy Fuck Face’s nose for staring at your tits the whole trip.”
Again, she pauses. Then, “Maybe I thought it was hot when you got jealous.”
My smile breaks free. “Speaking of jealous …”
Her expression goes cloudy. “What?”
“I saw the murder in your eyes at the bonfire the other night.” When she doesn’t take the bait, I toss out another lure. “You know, when I was talking to that college chick.”
“Talking?” she echoes darkly. A familiar hint of murder glints in her eyes before her lips quickly curl in annoyance—directed at herself.
I know Genevieve, and right now she’s kicking herself for showing weakness. So, as expected, she deflects.
“You’re referring to the girl whose boyfriend beat you up?” Gen flashes a saccharine smile. “The one who only pretended she wanted to get with you to make her man jealous?”
“One, you’re not allowed to look that gleeful at the idea of someone beating me up. Two, I didn’t get beat up—that dude’s crew had to carry him away, in case you didn’t notice. And three, if I’d wanted to get with her, I would’ve gotten with her.”
“Uh-huh. Because from where I was standing, it looked like you tried to shoot your shot and she left with
her boyfriend.”
“Tried? I wasn’t trying.” I tip my head in challenge. “Genevieve. Baby. We both know I have no trouble convincing women to take their clothes off.”
“And he’s modest too.”
I wink at her. “Modesty is for guys who don’t get laid.”
I’m gratified to see her swallow. Christ. I want to fuck her. It’s been so long.
Too
long. Doesn’t matter how many girls I hooked up with in Gen’s absence. No one compares to her. No one gets me as hot, makes me as crazy.
“Well, since seduction comes so easy for you, why don’t you skedaddle and go find someone who wants to be seduced?” With a bitchy flick of her eyebrows, Gen picks up her water and takes another sip.
I snort. “Stop pretending like you don’t want to rip my clothes off and fuck me in that pool.”
“I don’t.” Her tone is confident, but I don’t miss the flare of heat in her eyes.
“No?” I say, licking my suddenly dry lips.
“No,” she repeats, but her confidence is slipping.
“Really? Not even a teeny, tiny part of you is tempted?”
Her throat dips as she gulps again. I see her hand trembling slightly as she puts down her glass.
I lean closer, breathing deeply. The salty, sweet scent of tanning oil is rich in the humid air. I want to rip her top off with my teeth and wrap her hair between my fingers. She tries to act like she’s so above it all, but I can see her pulse thrumming on the side of her neck, and I know she feels the same insatiable need.
“Meet me later,” I say without forethought but then commit to the idea. “Our spot. Tonight.”
She’s impassive behind those silver reflective sunglasses. But when she bites her lip and hesitates to answer, I know she’s considering it. She wants to say yes. It’d be
so easy. Because we’ve never had to try to be together, it’s just natural. Our tides always flowing in the same direction.
Then she pulls away. She stands and wraps a towel around her waist. The impenetrable wall goes up and I’m locked on the other side.
“Sorry,” she says with a dismissive shrug. “I can’t. I have a date.”